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Faction Training Days | The Jedi Order (All Jedi)



Training Days
The Jedi Order
(Open to All Jedi)


Based on an idea from Jerec Asyr Jerec Asyr used for the BSS
: Here

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Building the Bonds:
Inspired by an excellent concept pioneered by Jerec, we are thrilled to adapt this initiative specifically for the needs of the Jedi Order.

We recognize the common hurdles faced by members both new and old: How do you jump into character development? How do you forge meaningful connections? How do you initiate those essential (but sometimes challenging) training narratives?

This dedicated thread is our solution: a collaborative space designed to facilitate low-stakes stories. Think of these as casual encounters, passing conversations, training mishaps, or lighthearted meetings.

The Goal: Our aim is simple; we want every Jedi to know one another! By establishing these foundational relationships now, you will be much better equipped to find stories and partners when major faction threads come around, allowing you to jump straight into the action.



Creative Freedom and Collaboration:
We encourage absolute creativity! The interactions here can be as outlandish, strange, or simple as you wish.

We encourage on the collaborative principle of "Yes, and?" If you are tagged into an interaction, embrace the premise and enjoy the history between your characters.

If a passing moment sparks an idea, feel free to reach out to the writer privately to explore it further in a dedicated thread. No pressure whatsoever; this is simply an opportunity to plant seeds for future growth!


So the rules are simple:

This is an IC posting game unbound by location.
  • Tag the person above your reply in a random one post, flashback story. It can be anywhere and anytime.
    • For the person who replies first, tag Lorn Reingard Lorn Reingard for the first story!
  • Create whatever story you want with that character you are tagging. Maybe it went well, maybe it very much didn't. Up to you.
  • Feel free to participate multiple times as the same character or different ones. The more connections the better.
    • If you like the story told... Dont be shy! Reach out and create some cool behind the scenes, daily life type stories.
Did you cross paths with a character in a boring lecture, in a training class, on a mission, in the mess hall? It's up to you!

This is open to ALL JEDI. If you are a light-sided individual, feel free to interact!


 
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Lorn Reingard Lorn Reingard

Knight Jyn-tal walked beside Knight Lola Sun, quiet as Lola eyed Knight Lorn with wide starry eyes, her lekku twitching with what could only be described as yearning.

"See? See? Look at that stance. The balance, the poise! See Devi, I told you he's magnificent." She whispered to Devi, who only watched the Knight as he went through his martial motions with terse observation, her pale yellow hairtendrils lazily coiling and uncurling as she then gave a soft hum.

"Mmm. Magnificent. Yes. You said that three times now."

When they finally approached, Lola's voice went an octave higher than usual.

"Knight Reingard! Hi! -- I mean, greetings." She waved, a little too enthusiastically.

Lorn stopped midswing, blinking at them before clipping his saber to his belt.

"Knight Sun," he said politely.

"This is Knight Jyn-Tal, recently from the Wild Regions. She's joining the Vanguard ranks." Lola beamed out, gesturing to the Mirkkian.

Devi gave a brief nod, her golden eyes studying him up and down. Her tendrils flicked once in terse contemplation.

"So you're Lorn."

"...That's me?" He said it like a question.

She tilted her head, then said with blunt observation.

"Hmm. I thought by all the praise Lola was making about your muscles, that you'd be taller. Maybe broader. But I find you... average."

Lola's lekku snapped back like she'd been hit by a blaster bolt.

"Devi!" she hissed.

Lorn blinked once, then twice, clearly torn between confusion and mild existential crisis. "Uh… thank you?"

Devi shrugged. "You're welcome."

There was a long awkward silence....

Then Devi leaned toward Lola and whispered, "Perhaps your standards are just… small."

Lorn opened his mouth, closed it again, and finally muttered, "I'm… going to hydrate."

As he walked off, Lola groaned into her hands. Devi watched him go, then said, deadpan, "At least he has a nice walk."

Lola just sighed. "You're impossible."

 
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It was supposed to be a peaceful afternoon at Shiraya's Sanctuary, the kind of Naboo day poets write about. The air hummed gently through the gardens, sunlight fell in lazy golden stripes, and the only sound was the soft rustle of the willow leaves.

Then there was the crash.

"Devi." Aiden said slowly, staring at what used to be a meditation platform and was now a heroic attempt at modern art. "Did you... reinforce the beams before trying to levitate the whole structure?"

Jedi Knight Devi Jyn-tal tall, fearless, and apparently allergic to reading safety instructions blinked innocently. "I felt the Force would provide stability."

Aiden pinched the bridge of his nose. "The Force provides guidance, not scaffolding."

A chunk of wood groaned and slid off the side, narrowly missing his boot.

"See?" Devi gestured. "It missed you. That's guidance."

By the time the pair managed to rebuild half of the structure mostly through laughter and questionable use of telekinesis a flock of sanctuary birds had perched nearby to watch. One of them tilted its head as Aiden's platform creaked again.

"Don't you dare." he warned the universe.

The universe, naturally, dared.

The whole thing tilted at a precise forty-five degrees, sending Aiden tumbling into the pond nearby with a splash loud enough to scare every bird into flight. Devi leaned over the edge, grinning down at the dripping Knight. "You're really good at finding balance, you know that?"

Aiden wiped water from his face, glared half-heartedly, then chuckled. "Next time, you're in the pond."

"Next time." she said, "I'll bring a raft."

From somewhere above the gardens, the Force itself seemed to sigh the sound suspiciously like quiet laughter.

 
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The air reeked of sickness and smoke.

Stewjon had once been a world of quiet fields and gentle rain, but that was before the skies turned red and the sound of screaming became its new hymn. The disease had spread faster than any natural plague could, leaping from body to body as if it had purpose. Now, its victims stumbled through the streets, their skin gray and their eyes clouded with that telltale glaze of Sith alchemy. What had begun as a humanitarian mission had become a slaughter.

The mission had gone to hell in a handbasket.

Abel Denko’s boots pressed into the cracked tarmac beside the wreckage of the downed shuttle. Flames licked what little remained of its hull, painting his armor in shifting tones of orange and ash. The Jedi insignia still glimmered faintly on the twisted metal, a cruel reminder of what this mission had once meant. He could hear blasterfire in the distance and the sharp, rhythmic hum of a lightsaber somewhere within the storm of chaos.

The Order had sent their diplomats, their healers, their idealists. He was none of those things.

The mission didn’t even belong to him. He had been stationed a few systems north, watching the borderlands between the Republic and the Sith Order. Rumors had circulated for weeks about strange movement, about the Sith experimenting again with old horrors best left buried. When Stewjon went dark, Abel knew. The plague wasn’t a tragedy of nature. It was a test.

A Blackwing derivative. Alchemy refined. Death with purpose.

He moved through the smoke like a soldier through memory, each step calculated, deliberate. His eyes found the silhouette of Jedi Master Elpyne holding the landing pad alone, the elder’s green blade a storm unto itself as the undead pressed closer. There were bodies everywhere, but some still drew breath.

Abel’s focus shifted. Jedi Knight Devi Jyn-tal knelt amid the carnage, her robe streaked with ash and blood as she tried to bind the arm of a young Twi’lek girl: Ouca Venn. She was Barely a teenager and this was her first diplomatic mission. The child’s body convulsed in Devi’s arms, a low scream tearing through the air as veins blackened beneath her skin. The infection spread quickly, burning through her like fire through dry grass.

Devi’s voice broke as she begged for help that would not come. Abel did not answer.

He calmly stepped forward, his shadow falling across them both. There was a snap-hiss, the unmistakable sound of justice delivered without hesitation. The azure blade cut through the smoke, impaling the girl’s chest in one clean stroke. Her scream fell into silence. For a brief moment, her trembling hands clutched Devi’s. Then...she was still.

The saber extinguished, and Abel set a hand upon Devi’s shoulder. She looked up at him, eyes wide and hollow with disbelief.

“She was but a child,” she whispered. “We could have saved her.”

Abel met her gaze, steady and unflinching. “She was lost the moment she was infected. Hesitation would have damned us all. Survival requires conviction.

He turned toward the landing pad where Elpyne still fought. “Get to the ship,” he said, his tone carrying no argument. “Hold the wounded and keep them breathing.”

Then he strode into the chaos, toward the horde that awaited him. There was another snap-hiss, and the night came alive with blue fire.


 
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The decision, some months ago, to relocate to Naboo, to where his former and greatest student made her life with her family had given Ilias no shortage of people to care for in his role as a healer, and with the wounded that had come out of the ravaging of Stewjon, that was a solid fact. It was nothing new to him, this insidious thing, but always it was taken with no less import than it had to be given: that resurgence of the Blackwing virus had not been the first he had seen of it and its fallout. No, that bead of memory went back in a series of black marks, across centuries, and it always came with more than healing the body, alone, of the those who survived unscathed. Physically.

Scars inflicted by the horrors they'd seen, and the hard decisions they had no choice but to make. The cost in the bright lights he saw each life as, even now, over nine centuries into his existence and well accustomed to burying them. The virus had taken from him too, once.

After caution exercised — quarantine — had cleared the Jedi to return to their duties, some had continued to revisit the Sanctuary's medical wing for the case of such trauma, for not every Jedi was so resilient to weather what was always no less than a deeply harrowing experience, with the Blackwing. Due diligence required such care, and he did require it.

Even when they might insist they were fine. Ilias rose from his seat in tandem with the blond Denko, tapping away, updating the man's record.

"I'll see you when next you visit the Sanctuary, then. Do let us know if any issues arise in the meantime."

Some Jedi like Abel Denko could be hard to pin down.

"Won't be necessary," his tone bordered on flatness, "I'm fine."

There it was. Ilias gave a small smile, flicking a glance up from the datapad clasped in his hands, still tapping away despite not looking at the screen. "Humour me, Mister Denko," his brows rose, preceding the frankness that followed it, "you're due," overdue, "for a check-up, regardless." A single beat. "You aren't getting any younger."

Abel's mouth opened, then abruptly closed. Ilias' eyes glinted with a mild sharpness. He looked back down at the 'pad.

"Consider it doing your duty. Let me do mine." Blues flicked up again, as Abel made to leave. "Have a good... well, however long it may be. Until next time, Mister Denko."

 
Wu travelled through the hospital, laying hands, offering healing wherever he could. Attempting to assist with his limited medical knowledge. Wu sometimes wished he had the training of medical applications. To be more than a healer, but a surgeon. The pursuit of healing was in his opinion the most noblest of pursuits. Still Wu also felt he lacked the analytical mind for such a pursuit of knowledge. Wu liked avenues of learning that lead to more questions than answers. The closest he got to a scientific field of study was ancient history. Stories of the temples of the High Republic, of the conflicts of Sith and Jedi in the Old Republic before it. Tales of the Old Jedi Order and their masters.

I wonder would I be accepted among such stringent jedi, or would I be considered a rogue wanderer.

The thought amused him a little, he almost chuckled. Before bringing himself back to the present moment, wondering if his amusement was entirely appropriate for the setting of suffering. Wu took a breath and sighed, going to his next patient. Then again perhaps hospitals could do with a little more cheer. They said after all that laughter was the best medicine.

Wu sat down next to a doctor. A jedi he was surprised to find. Wu was curious. A jedi who actively studied medicine as a field. That would upon first impression be a Jedi worth meeting. A meeting, that would potentially, hopefully lead to an interesting discussion. Discussions had such wonderful opportunities, one never knew where they might lead, to knowledge or perhaps even better to friendship. Wu was curious as a monkey how the fellow Jedi found balancing his medicinal field with being a Jedi.

"Pardon me. I am Master Wu." Wu introduced himself with a gentle smile and a gentle bow. "I hope you don't see me as imprudent. I am sure you have many duties to attend to in the hospital. If you have a spare moment, I was wondering if I could pester you about your experience as a Jedi of medicine."

"I myself lack such scientific inclinations, yet have great admiration for those who choose to develop their scientific minds to the art of healing."


Wu smiled gently, with an open, honest and curious expression. He often found if one left oneself open to possibilities, opportunities presented themselves. He had come to the hospital partly to help, partly out of duty and partly out of boredom. Now the potential for an interesting interaction had presented itself.

Life and the Force has a funny way of guiding a fellow.

Ilias Nytrau Ilias Nytrau
 


Tags: Wuxia Wukong Wuxia Wukong

Lorn sat cross-legged on the marble floor, posture straight, his expression grim. Across from him, Master Wuxia Wukong floated a few inches off the ground, serene as a stone in a pond.

"Breathe less," Wu said, eyes closed. "You're trying too hard not to try."

"That's because trying not to try is trying,"
Lorn muttered through his nose, clearly frustrated.

Wu cracked one eye open. "You sound like my Padawan."

"Your Padawan's probably alive,"
Lorn shot back. "I'm about to suffocate."

The older Jedi chuckled softly. "This trick of hibernation trance isn't about holding your breath. It's about surrendering to stillness. You must allow the Force to do the work."

"Right. Surrender,"
Lorn said, tightening every muscle in his neck as if preparing for a fight.

Wu exhaled through his nose and tapped the floor. The sound echoed lightly in the vaulted chamber. "You look like a man wrestling an invisible bantha."

"I feel like one."

"Good. That means you're alive. Now. Be less alive."


Lorn cracked an eye open. "That's terrible teaching advice."

Wu grinned. "It works."

Ten minutes passed. Then twenty. Wu appeared perfectly motionless, his pulse a whisper in the Force. Lorn, on the other hand, had reached the "angry meditation" phase; his version of enlightenment apparently included muttering curses at his own lungs.

When he finally stopped fighting it, when he simply let go, the room softened. His heartbeat slowed. His body sank into the Force like it had always meant to. The edges of sound blurred. He could almost...

Wu clapped his hands. "Excellent! You lasted eight seconds!"

Lorn's eyes snapped open. "Eight seconds?"

"That's seven longer than I expected,"
Wu said cheerfully. "Another hour or two and you might fool a stormtrooper."

Lorn groaned, rubbing his face. "Remind me why anyone needs this?"

Wu smiled, settling beside him. "Because sometimes, my friend, the greatest weapon in the galaxy is a good nap."

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